


Blue Fire

by silverscyth3



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 07:50:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9312302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverscyth3/pseuds/silverscyth3
Summary: After the events of Elegant Chaos, Brainstorm tries to cope with his choices and the consequences of his actions.





	

In order for time travel to work, every moment in time must exist simultaneously, for it is impossible to access something that is simply not there.

A reasonable assumption.

Let’s say you’re responsible for a stable time loop; you access a past you were never meant to be apart of, you manipulate its events ever so gently in order to reshape a future that would no longer be yours to participate in, and in the height of your time travelling adventure you are tackled by the notion that what you’re doing is wrong. It was right, but it was wrong. You stop yourself from snuffing a spark, a choice you were apparently destined to make.

Perhaps this meant that destiny was real. Perhaps this meant that he was always destined to fail. And this fact - or theory rather - is what ate at him the most. In an effort to deconstruct the vile entity that was their four million year war he wound up ensuring its existence. That entity, that beast of a near-endless conflict took the mech that he loved away from him.

That was the whole point of travelling, wasn’t it? The true purpose, the primary objective. To save Quark. But he let his ambitions grow and swell and in the end amounted to nothing. If he just held onto his original plan then maybe  _destiny_  wouldn’t have been so cruel. Quark was a good mech. Smart, honest, and lovable. Oh, so lovable. He didn’t deserve to die like that. Not ever.

There was a trial that followed his trip into the past. A judgment was made.

He would have to cut ties with his decepticon connections. Fine, he hadn’t needed them for years.

He had to now be supervised while working. Annoying but reasonable given the situation.

They would destroy is life’s work. Centuries of work. One of the biggest advancements in Cybertronian scientific history and they were terminating it. The obvious reason as to why they were destroying it didn’t make the news any easier to handle. But he still had his mind. If anything he could always build another machine, but knowing history he knew that he would probably fail again.

To Brainstorm’s surprise, Perceptor of all people agreed to become his supervisor. In even more shocking news, Perceptor volunteered for the job. This would have been favourable if- and only if- Perceptor was  _literally any other mech on the ship._

Of course his rival would bask in the glow that was the recent defeat of his competitor. Maybe everyone else available was too worried that they would be caught in a fiery death experiment of some sort.

How often would that red mech pester him about how amoral his mission was? Weekly? Daily?  _Hourly?_ Brainstorm didn’t know. What he did know was the disdain brewing within himself would increase ten fold. That damn microscope of a mech. He hated him. He loved him.

Perceptor sent Brainstorm his schedule which unfortunately left Brainstorm with few hours to work. The fact that the jet had to now work around someone else’s schedule was frustrating enough, but a fellow scientist who had his own lab and his own projects made things even more difficult. He swallowed his irritation and set up a schedule that left a sufficient amount of time left over for Perceptor to do as he pleased.

The main rule of Brainstorm’s lab was that Brainstorm was not allowed to enter it unless Perceptor was already present inside. Failing to do so would most likely result in a suspension of some kind. Thankfully, the red mech would typically show up either on time or already be waiting inside. On the rare occasion that Perceptor was late for whatever conceivable reason, Brainstorm never had to wait longer than a few minutes. Although the engineer was not known for his patience, which made those few minutes feel like tens of minutes, decreasing his mood by the time they got inside.

They were both scientist and to have Perceptor just standing around while Brainstorm worked seemed illogical… And quite awkward. He could feel Perceptor’s optics watching him. Judging him. Judging the things he’d done and the new projects he started. The jet thought if he stood still long enough the red mech would burn a hole right through him with those bright blue optics, straight through his crosshairs and into the back of Brainstorm’s head.

If Perceptor was going to silently judge him he might as well do it as he worked. So Brainstorm set up small tasks for him to do. Nothing too strenuous on the brain; decontaminations, distillations, and allowing him to double check equations that the jet already knew were correct. Small things to make him feel useful in an environment that was not his. 

But even with all those ill feelings Brainstorm had riding inside him, somehow he was able to maintain his eccentric personality. He still laughed with his friends and excitedly told them about his next weapon that would revolutionize combat. It was easy. It came naturally to him and most days it was genuine. 

Every so often, however, his failings would hit him. His mind would swirl around the centuries of work he put into that time machine, the wonderful face of Quark, and the fact that he was so damn close to prevailing. Those moments hurt, and they would typically occur while he was working - while Perceptor was around to judge him.

Those thoughts or episodes or whatever they were would sometimes have Brainstorm sitting down at one of his desks, hands over his face in quiet thought, just until he felt well enough to continue the project at hand. Perceptor never approached him during those times as if he knew he wouldn’t be thanked for it. The microscope would spend those moments tinkering with something until Brainstorm recovered. When the jet stood up again he would look over at Perceptor in embarrassment for letting his emotions get the better of him. Perceptor would nod in response and move on.

Over the weeks the duration of those negative emotions lasted longer and occurred more frequently. For Brainstorm it never got to the point where he wanted to stop working but there were a few times when he came close to it. Perceptor, on the other hand, seemed to be becoming more uncomfortable as a supervisor and unofficial lab assistant. It could have been that he couldn’t think of any comforting words to give his colleague, or maybe he was simply getting annoyed with the engineer’s sulking. Brainstorm assumed the latter. 

In science there is no room for emotion! Only seeing what hasn’t been done and doing it. No drowning yourself in thoughts of lost loved ones. No weapon engineers trying to heal their lovelorn sparks. There’s math and chemistry and physics, tangible things to change at will. Things that can be controlled through great calculation and hard work. Emotion is much harder to conceal, control, and calculate. They are a mess of our perception of the universe. What Brainstorm wanted more than anything was to detach his emotions from his work and himself.

Eventually and inevitably the day came where all Brainstorm could process was Quark. Every thought felt like he was pouring acid into an open wound. The pain in his spark was getting rapidly more sore with each waking moment. His world felt like it was crumbling around him fast. The jet tried to focus on anything else; his friends, his projects, on science… Quark was a scientist.

The day ate at him and he couldn’t understand why. What was the cause? Why now? He thought of talking to Rung or anyone for that matter. Skids was compassionate enough. Nautica would understand. They would help him if he just stopped telling them that he was fine. He  _wasn’t._ He was breaking into tiny pieces over a mech he would never see again. A mech who had stolen his spark and had the audacity to die with it. Even so, he figured that he had to thank Quark. Without him, those dozens of briefcases would never have been made. The impossible would have never been made possible. Besides the relentless sparkache, the other gift Quark gave him was inspiration.

Brainstorm made his way to Swerve’s bar. He thought that a drink or two would subside his troubled mind. But two drinks turned into three then four then after that he stopped counting. The high grade spinning around in his system made him feel better but worse. Everything was funny now - and blurry. He could still walk but probably not fly, not that there was ever reason to on the Lost Light. Some of the crew members gave him a peculiar look. Brainstorm shrugged it off. If he wanted to get blackout drunk then that’s absolutely what he was going to do.

Perceptor sent Brainstorm a comm message stating that he was currently in Brainstorm’s lab and wondering if he planned on showing up anytime soon. Perceptor’s tone made sure to remind him that he’s doing him a favour by being there. The jet replied saying that he would ‘be right there’ in the best non-inebriated voice he could conjure. 

He slowly made his way into the hall while finding himself constantly bumping into walls. The edge of his wings scrapped across the paint there. Looking up at the ceiling the lights felt brighter than usual. He was dizzy and couldn’t focus on anything clearly. He had his mind enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to work efficiently like this, but the thought of Perceptor toying with his experiments without him present bothered him.

He entered his lab seeing Perceptor automatically eyeing him with his arm’s crossed over each other. His face contained slight anger but was quickly changed to concern. Brainstorm could see through that gaze and knew he was still judging him. Perceptor had no right to stand there and remind him of Quark. How dare he! Similar profession, similar mannerisms, and that  _damn alt-mode._ Every attempt Brainstorm made to move on was smothered by Perceptor’s presence. He hated everything about him. He was just another person he wanted but couldn’t have. 

Perceptor took a few steps forward, unfolded his arms and placed a hand of the jet’s shoulder. “Brainstorm?”

What? Was this a false attempt to show empathy? Brainstorm knew better than to fall for that. Although he hadn’t realized how much he was swaying until Perceptor’s hand was on him, steadying him. The red mech used his other hand to straighten the crooked mask on Brainstorm’s face. He looked over into Perceptor’s optics. A calming shade of blue like Quark’s.

“I miss him so much.” Brainstorm finally said. Every word slipping out of his mouth was slurred. He lowering his head. “I can’t make it stop.”

Perceptor hesitated at first but pulled him in for a hug. It was warm. No judgment to be found. Only quiet kindness. He sunk his face into the side of Perceptor’s neck. Maybe this was too close and too much but Brainstorm didn’t care. He felt himself falling to pieces again and someone was there to catch him. Perceptor annoyed him beyond belief at times. Always this heightened sense of morality and ethics in the air around him. It was aggravating yet charming. In that moment all he wanted was for Perceptor to never let go.

He hated him. He loved him.


End file.
